


Laureate

by introspectivebeet



Series: oikawa harem fics [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fine Arts, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Onigiri Miya, Singer!Semi, Unrequited Crush, ceramist!shirabu, chocolatier!tendou, filmmaker!suna, painter!Suga, painter!sakusa, singer!wakatoshi, suga and oikawa have tumblrs, violist!akaashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:08:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 4,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28281438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/introspectivebeet/pseuds/introspectivebeet
Summary: Artist Sugawara Kōshi has unrequited feelings for Sawamura Daichi.Poet Oikawa Tōru has unrequited feelings for Iwaizumi Hajime.What happens when the two find each other, sharing a mutual pain?SOUNDTRACK: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4yiW0zTv2uqRvR7eUo3Wc9?si=KiymaTLgTtOaIWLDK3-5cg
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Iwaizumi Hajime/Original Female Character(s), Michimiya Yui/Sawamura Daichi, Oikawa Tooru/Sugawara Koushi, Sakusa Kiyoomi & Suna Rintarou, Semi Eita/Shirabu Kenjirou, Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Series: oikawa harem fics [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2099976
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

Having a way with words is a cruel gift.

On one hand, you have an escape route, something to do when everything feels too much. On the other hand, however, writing down your innermost thoughts forces you to acknowledge them. Seeing them in front of you makes you feel them tenfold, and that is a pain like none other.

Oikawa Tōru has such a way with words. His words have set him free at times and trapped him others. The poetry he comes up with is to be shared but not with anyone who might discover who he is. 

It’s because he has a way with words that he is writing now, though a poem is not enough to capture the pain he feels in this very moment.

So he writes to his lifetime love, the man he lives with, the man he once called his forever. He writes and he sobs and he  **_feels_ ** and it’s all too much. It’s all too much but Tōru can’t stop feeling, he can’t, he has to bleed out all of the words before he falls into a cardiac arrest of the soul, unable to allow himself the air he needs to breathe.

He hurts, he hurts so intensely, and watching Hajime with that girl stings him like no other wound. Seeing them cuddle the same way he and Hajime had countless times before on that very same couch, watching the same movies under the same blanket eating popcorn from the same bowl, seeing Hajime fall in love the same way he had fallen in love with Hajime, that all burned in a fashion unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

Hajime’s fingers are delicate as he brushes her hair behind her ear, his gaze soft and adoring, the same look Tōru gave Hajime. 

Hajime was Tōru’s life source, the very water he needed to survive, and so much more. He was the stardust that made up his being, he was the food and shelter he needed, he was the warmth after running home in the rain in the dead of December. 

Tōru found his home in Hajime, but Hajime found his home in the girl sitting in his lap on the couch.

Words sting, but nothing pains Tōru like watching the love of his life fall in love with someone else. 


	2. Chapter 2

_ everywhere i turn _

_ all i see is you _

_ happy, with her _

_ and not me _

_ all i see are the promises _

_ you made me _

_ and ultimately broke _

_ all i see is her _

_ invading everything that used to be mine _

_ T.O. _


	3. Chapter 3

Kōshi read the words on his screen. He had never heard of this poet, never read a single word of theirs, yet he felt as though they were experiencing some of the same things. Based on these words, it seemed they were.

He sat on the recliner in his apartment, wondering just when Daichi would be home, if he even considered Kōshi’s arms home like the silver-haired man thought of his.

He was sure that at one point, Daichi had found a home in him, but with college splitting their schedules and with them spending less and less time together, though they lived with each other, they drifted apart. Slowly Kōshi wasn’t greeted with forehead kisses anymore, he didn’t get a caress on his forehead and cheek every time he fell ill, he didn’t come home on Saturdays to a movie marathon after a long shift at work.

Slowly but surely, he lost everything that had meant love to him, and now he watches as Daichi slow dances to the same song in their shared kitchen, but now with Yui.

Kōshi could never hate Yui, she didn’t intend to separate the two, to hurt them, but it happened nonetheless. She’s an angel, always considerate of everyone around her, trying her very hardest to be the best version of herself at any given moment.

Yet Kōshi had been unable to successfully complete the commission Daichi asked for, a painting of he and Yui dancing in the kitchen, a rendition of a photo Kōshi himself took. He couldn’t capture the smile on Daichi’s face, he couldn’t get Yui’s body shape right, he couldn’t picture Daichi with anyone but himself.

Kōshi was in agony. He was in agony and so was Tōru.

He typed up a question on T.O.’s tumblr and pressed send before he could change his mind.

His next piece would not be the commission Daichi asked for- in fact, he would tell Daichi that he can’t do it, that he was swamped with work and projects, he would recommend Kiyoomi for the piece.

No, Kōshi’s next piece would be T.O.’s words, in the form of acrylic on canvas.


	4. Chapter 4

Tōru looked down at the notification on his phone. It was sent from an S.K.

Rarely did Tōru get feedback on his creative works, rather as an English literature major he was critiqued largely on his essays and reports. Yet the notification on his screen was a declaration of love and acceptance on his latest poem. 

He clicked on the sender’s profile, and immediately he was shocked. The very first piece on the S.K.’s page was a piece based off of Tōru’s latest poem: a man and a woman standing in a kitchen, dancing with a phonograph in the background. The piece, however, was left purposefully unfinished and partially ruined; the woman’s face had been aggressively painted in a pure black colour, the man’s face left blank other than a smile. The paint across the woman’s face dripped slightly, almost as if they were the artist’s tears reflected on her image. 

The piece was absolutely phenomenal and had credits to Tōru’s poem underneath.

Had the artist really done all of this so quickly? Were Tōru’s words worthy enough of such a masterpiece?

He replied to the artist and followed him back.


	5. Chapter 5

_ and as you lay my heart _

_ open on a cold, bloodied table _

_ i ask that you take great caution _

_ as it has been under the blade many a time _

_ and almost caused me my last bated breath. _

_ as you study my open heart _

_ i ask that you make sure your hands _

_ aren't as shaky as my thoughts are _

_ and are more confident _

_ than i'll ever dream of being. _

_ as you bring that scalpel down _

_ ready to begin your dissection _

_ i ask that you do the same with my mind and soul _

_ for it's only you that i trust _

_ T.O. _


	6. Chapter 6

“Kōshi, wake up. You fell asleep painting again… Is that…?”

Kōshi cursed internally. He had fallen asleep immediately after posting his painting last night, the painting of Daichi and Yui, the one that he ruined on purpose.

“Oh, hi Dai. What’s up?”

“I came to wake you up because you fell asleep in your studio again. Is that-”

“Fuck! I fell asleep with the brush in my hands! I’m so sorry Dai, maybe Kiyoomi could do the piece for you? I heard he’s asking for commissions right now.”

Daichi shook his head slightly, before nodding and humming, leaving Kōshi alone in his studio. 

“...Fuck.”

Kōshi picked up his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found someone he thought could help him- he’d been the person to hear about all of this, anyways. Kōshi shot him a quick text, fully expecting him to be practicing, so it was a bit of a surprise when his phone buzzed.

Akaashi: 

Of course I can talk. What’s going on, Kōcchan?

Suga: 

you don’t have to be so formal, keiji. but, uh, daichi found me in the studio with his commission. have you checked tumblr yet?

Akaashi: 

I have not. Please, give me a moment and I will look.

…

Oh.

Do you want to come over? 

Suga:  
omw ♡

Kōshi sighed as he stood up, making his way to his bedroom so he could change. He could hear Yui and Daichi in the kitchen, both laughing, so he assumed Daichi wasn’t too upset.

_I really fucked up this time, huh?_


	7. Chapter 7

_ ouch  _

_ this hurts _

_ i went so long being happier than ever before, _

_ but now here i am, _

_ feeling empty, _

_ drained, _

_ lost, _

_ confused, _

_ broken. _

_ T.O. _


	8. Chapter 8

She was here again.

Yukie, the girl who Hajime had fallen in love with, was here again.

Tōru was bitter, spiteful, wondering if she had her own place or not. She spent more nights here than not, infecting every inch of his space, taking everything that once was his, including Hajime.

Hajime barely paid Tōru any mind these days, choosing rather to obsess over his girlfriend than spend any time with his lifelong best friend. Tōru had other friends, of course, but he didn’t want to lose Hajime.

Speaking of his other friends, Satori had invited Tōru out for the night, an invitation he quickly accepted, to go watch Satori’s boyfriend and best friend perform.

Live opera wasn’t exactly Tōru’s thing, but a few of his close friends knew that he listened to classical and romantic era music passionately. His favourite piece was Britten’s  _ War Requiem _ , and he believed that Wakatoshi and Eita performed it beautifully, though he would never tell Wakatoshi that.

Satori knew this, however, and had gotten Tōru a recording of it, having seen the way the writer’s eyes gleamed at the sound. It was an early Christmas present for the brunette, one that he listened to every time he felt overwhelmed.

And now he sat, waiting on Wakatoshi and Eita to perform yet again, though this time the opera was  _ La Traviata, _ one that Tōru had yet to see.

It was always after these performances that Tōru’s writing became more inspired, less heavy, and more free. Satori was one of the people who knew him best; the redhead could always tell when Tōru needed to destress and this was certainly one of those times.

He watched as Tōru’s face relaxed, the muscles becoming less taut, his breathing mellowing. He sighed a little himself, Satori hated seeing one of the most important people to him so worked up.

Tōru took in everything, from Wakatoshi and Eita’s performances to the orchestra, especially the solo violist, and the people in the crowd. No, live Operas weren’t necessarily Tōru’s thing, but that had nothing to do with the show, rather it had everything to do with the people attending.

The stuck up elderly people around Satori and Tōru stared at them in disgust, though they had dressed appropriately, simply because they were younger than them, and Tōru may or may not have cussed a few out in various languages. 

By the time the show was over, Tōru and Satori made their way downstairs to meet up with Eita and Wakatoshi, bumping into a silver-haired man and the violist on the way.

Tōru’s eyes widened at the sight of the silver-haired man, and he had a hint of a blush on his cheeks as he apologized before being dragged by the hand towards Wakatoshi and Eita. He had flowers in his opposite hand, to present to Eita, who he had become quick friends with. 

That night, Tōru wrote a new kind of poem- one that didn’t capture heartache but rather one that freely expressed that the other man had piqued his interest to anyone who knew of his poetry. 

That means Satori would know who the poem was about, he had never really had a problem figuring out the meanings behind Tōru’s poetry, but he couldn’t find himself to care much at the moment. The poem had been piecing together the second he saw the shorter male, completely enamored by his presence.

He slept peacefully to the sound of Wakatoshi and Eita’s singing.


	9. Chapter 9

_ even the stars can't shine as bright as you. _

_ T.O. _


	10. Chapter 10

Kōshi was cold, as always, but he was in the school studio which meant absolutely no wearing sweaters- Kenjirō had hugged him after working on a ceramics project while he was wearing his favourite sweater and it took him weeks to get all of the clay out of the knitting.

He rolled up the sleeves to his only long-sleeve shirt he was willing to sacrifice, preparing his supplies and sitting on his stool. The easel before him bore an empty canvas, and for once in his life, Kōshi was unsure of what to paint.

He took out his headphones and played some of Keiji’s music, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He kept his eyes closed as he sketched- a habit which Kiyoomi despised. He swore it wasn’t out of jealousy, but Kōshi knew the second he opened his eyes there one of his closest friends would be, glaring and blushing slightly at being caught. 

He always drew what he was painting first, which Kiyoomi worked through putting paint down first and building with finer and finer details as time progressed.

When Kōshi opened his eyes, he saw a silhouette of a man on the canvas before him, with a hand gripping his chin and flowers in his hair, hair that flowed freely. 

It took Kōshi a moment to realize that it was the man he had seen at the opera a few nights previous, and he was surprised he remembered exactly what he looked like. He had been truly ethereal, after all, though Kōshi wondered why he left out the man’s glasses.

He decided that it was best not to add them, as he had a tendency to overdo it and ruin paintings when he kept adding details. He mixed his paints, preparing a violent shade of red for the flowers, adamant that they were the same shade as the flowers the other man had held in his hands and the colour of the hair of his companion.

Kōshi painted, not a speck of paint touching his skin or his clothes, as he spent more time concentrating on this piece than most. He wanted to attempt to capture the beauty of the brunette, though he thoroughly believed that nothing could even pale in comparison. He was one of the most beautiful people Kōshi had ever seen, and he put every ounce of that into his piece.

He stayed late that night; even Kiyoomi had gone home by the time Kōshi decided that it was finished. He took a few photos of it before letting it dry on a different easel, this one in a far corner away from everything else. He didn’t want anything to happen to this piece- he had slaved over it more than any other he’d completed.

It was one in the morning by the time Kōshi got back to his apartment, and he had left at nine the morning previous. He was exhausted, and he ignored Daichi and Yui in the living room on his way to his bedroom.

He posted his favourite two photos he had taken earlier, followed by T.O.’s newest poem. Kōshi thought it fit the piece almost perfectly, for the man was more beautiful than any star Kōshi had ever seen in the night sky. 


	11. Chapter 11

_ you are the calm _

_ before the rain _

_ the sun beating down _

_ on the green hills _

_ the yellow wildflowers  _

_ against a backdrop of limestone. _

_ you are nature _

_ and all of its beauty _

_ all it encompasses. _

_ T.O. _


	12. Chapter 12

“Satori, I can’t get him out of my head, he was just so pretty!”

“I know that, Tōru, almost all of your poetry from the last two weeks has been about him. I’m not stupid.”

“Sato-chan! Mean!”

“It’s the truth, babe. Anyways, I could just ask Wakatoshi or Eita what that violist’s name is and then he can tell us the pretty boy’s name.”

“I- Sato-chan, while I want to see him again, that seems a little sus, doesn’t it? Talking to someone just to talk to his friend?”

“Hmm, you have a point…”

“Of course I do. I’m always right, you know.”

Tōru could practically hear Satori rolling his eyes and smiling, he always acted like Tōru annoyed him but that obviously wasn’t the case.

“Oh! I know!”

“Hmm?”

“‘Toshi said something about a party happening after the next show. We could go watch  _ La Traviata  _ again and maybe they’ll both be there?”

“You know I can’t pass up a good party. Of course I’ll go.”

“You better, I got an order for the party and it’s a hefty one. I’m pretty sure ‘Samu got the same order size over at Onigiri Miya, but he has Rin and ‘Tsumu to help him.”

“I told you I will always help if you need it, babes.”

“Then get your ass over to the shop at 5am sharp tomorrow.”

“Of course, babes. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, your majesty.”

Tōru hung up, smiling. The full weight of what he had signed up for had yet to hit him.

The next morning, however, the size of the order shocked him- could the cast and their friends really eat this much chocolate? It seemed a rather daunting task, but Satori wasn’t a chocolatier without reason. He told Tōru what needed to be done, what needed to go where, and they finished the order before the shop had to close. 

“Right, so the party thing is tomorrow, Tōru. I’ll come pick you up, but we have to take the shop’s van this time.”

Tōru agreed, knowing that he wouldn’t get out of it. By the time he got home, he was too tired to write, let alone check tumblr.

He couldn’t wait for tomorrow.


	13. Chapter 13

_ I'll hold you _

_ through those long, _

_ sleepless nights _

_ I'll wipe the tears _

_ off of your soft cheeks _

_ I'll wash the paint _

_ out of your jeans _

_ And I'll listen _

_ to the new mixtape you made. _

_ I'll pull over on the side of the road _

_ just to get some wildflowers _

_ almost as beautiful as you. _

_ I'll wake up early in the morning _

_ and brew your favourite coffee _

_ I'll admire your newest photography _

_ and help you clean _

_ and edit the images _

_ I'll hold your hand in public, _

_ unashamedly _

_ and I'll kiss you _

_ like there's nothing left to do. _

_ I'll be everything you ever wanted. _

_ T.O. _


	14. Chapter 14

Kōshi had never been to a cast party- his fine art was visual, not performance-based, and there was good reason for that. He came nonetheless, as Keiji’s boyfriend had a presentation due today at his job. It was his first time since he started there that he would be pitching new sales ideas, and Keiji had encouraged him to do so rather than losing the opportunity for a party.

Kōshi was nervous, so he did what he usually did in situations like this: stood in the corner of the room next to equally shy Keiji, electing to observe rather than engage in conversation with anyone there. 

“Kōcchan, look, there he is- the guy you painted.”

Kōshi turned his head perhaps a little too quickly, where he made eye contact with the stranger from before. It was like his breaths were stolen- he looked even more beautiful than he remembered. Kōshi caught himself staring and looked away shyly, an obvious blush on his cheeks.

When a pair of shoes entered his line of sight, however, he looked back up to be met with a smile like none other he had ever seen before- even Daichi’s couldn’t hold a candle to it. 

“Hello. My name is Oi- Tōru. And yours?”

Kōshi found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the chocolate coloured ones before him, and he didn’t register Tōru’s words or the hand that was being held out for him to shake until Keiji elbowed him in the ribs.

“O-oh, hello. I’m Sugawara, but you can call me Suga or Kōshi.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kōshi. Can I get you a drink, or perhaps something to eat?”

Kōshi looked to Keiji, who had already turned away to talk to the flutist he was close with, Kiyoko. 

“Sure, I’d be honored.”

Kōshi only remembered a few things from that night: Tōru was an English major with a passion for poetry, he was friends with the two most respected operatists in the nation, and that Tōru is a massive flirt. 

He looked at his phone after the party, seeing a text from Tōru himself and a few tumblr notifications, but not much else.

Tōru:

I had fun, Kō. I hope to see you again soon. 

Kōshi blushed at the message. He’d had fun as well, there was no denying that fact.

He looked to his tumblr to see a flurry of notifications from T.O. themself, complimenting his most recent pieces, especially the one of the man he now knew as Tōru. 

He blushed slightly, unused to the attention, but then again that’s all he’d gotten all night- constant attention. Tōru’s eyes never left Kōshi, and the blush he’d worn through the party had yet to fade- it just intensified with the new stimuli.

Kōshi slept soundly, thoughts of Tōru in his mind.


	15. Chapter 15

_ my favourite flower is sunflowers _

_ because when everything is _

_ dead and decaying _

_ they bloom _

_ cheery and bright _

_ you are my sunflower _

_ in a world that seems _

_ to be decaying _

_ in front of our very eyes _

_ you bring me energy _

_ happiness _

_ and pure joy _

_ i adore you _

_ my sunflower _

_ may i never see you _

_ wilt away _

_ T.O. _


	16. Chapter 16

It’s summer. 

It’s summer, and Tōru had moved on from Hajime. He felt no regret or disappointment when Hajime and Yukie announced their engagement, he gratefully accepted the role as best man, he planned parts of the wedding for Hajime.

It’s summer, and he’s spent more nights at Kōshi’s new apartment than the one he now rents with Eita. It was a fair trade off, since Kenjirō had spent many nights there.

Satori had pestered Tōru almost nonstop about confessing to Kōshi, and Keiji had done the same. He told them that no, he would not confess, that he had been rejected once at the hands of Hajime and he didn’t plan on experiencing that yet again.

Tōru’s train of thought halted as he arrived to Kiyoomi’s apartment, the only one large enough to house the small gathering they were holding. Tōru was fashionably late, but the sheer amount of alcohol he brought excused him.

They had all finished their classes, and they deserved to get as drunk as they could without getting alcohol poisoning. Satori, Wakatoshi, Eita, Kenjirō, Kōshi, Keiji, Kōtarō, and Rintarō had already arrived to Kiyoomi’s apartment and cheered when Tōru entered.

They all got drunk, playing ridiculous party games and laying on the floor pondering their very existence. At one point a few joints were passed around, and they all felt at home with one another. Times like these were some of the few times Keiji was loud, his laughter ringing throughout the room. It was also one of the rare occasions that Kiyoomi felt comfortable enough to lay his head against Tōru’s and Kōshi’s while they did facemasks and talked about who they liked.

Kōshi and Tōru were so far gone that they were talking about each other to one another, going on and one about how much they liked the opposite person, with Kiyoomi interjecting his own thoughts of admiration for the pair. 

Rintarō, the person most capable of handling his drugs and alcohol, recorded the whole thing, under the guise of keeping memories. He was a filmmaker, after all, and even stoned out of his mind he could create cinematic masterpieces. He filmed as Kōtarō told Keiji an unfunny joke that elicited a laugh anyways, he got shots of Wakatoshi and Satori sleeping on each other, he recorded blushy and oblivious Eita while he was being flirted with by Kenjirō.

He filmed all of this and he filmed the lovebird’s confessions, winking at Kiyoomi from behind the camera. 

Tōru woke up, head on Kōshi’s lap, sighing and leaning into the feeling of fingers in his hair. He felt the fingers hesitate, eyes still closed, before they started moving again. He peeked the eye Kōshi couldn’t see open, making direct eye contact with Keiji across from him. 

He could see everyone… everyone but Kōshi.

He blushed before closing his eyes and sleeping once more, determined to stay in Kōshi’s embrace as long as possible.


	17. Chapter 17

_ You are soft sweaters  _

_ And warm hugs  _

_ You are late nights spent talking  _

_ About useless nonsense  _

_ You are a light scattering of freckles  _

_ On the tops of your shoulders  _

_ You are an overflowing mug of hot cocoa  _

_ Spilling over the sides  _

_ You are extra-buttery popcorn  _

_ And a movie marathon  _

_ You are physics and chemistry  _

_ Always pondering the existence of the universe  _

_ You are poetry  _

_ Words better painted than said  _

_ But most importantly  _

_ You are you _

_ S.K. _


	18. Chapter 18

Kōshi was the one to confess.

He had a crush on Tōru for months now, and he had tired quickly of Kiyoomi and Kenjirō’s demands to say something.

He took Tōru to a theatre to watch a live performance of  _ War Requiem _ , Satori having told him that it was the man’s favourite opera. After the show they went to Onigiri Miya, where Rintarō had a shift and served them rather than letting Osamu, having been previously informed of the events that would take place inside the restaurant.

“Kō, this is really sweet, but I can pay for myself, really.”

“No, Tōru, I insist. I said it was my treat and I mean it.”

“Fine, but I pay next time.”

“Next time, huh? I’m counting on that.”

Kōshi’s stomach did a flip at the sight of Tōru’s blush- the soft carnation looked in place on the brunette’s cheeks, a perfect comparison to the milky white tones in his skin.

“You know, Tōru, I have something I want to tell you.”

“Of course, you can tell me anything, Kō.”

Kōshi took a deep breath before glancing behind the counter, where he saw Rintarō already recording, not to his surprise.

“I- Words are a difficult thing for me, but I’d still like to make an effort to say what I need you to know rather than paint it to you.”

Kōshi swallowed thickly before continuing, nerves on high alert.

“What I’m trying to say, Tōru, is that I like you- no. I love you. I love you and I have loved you for months. The first time I saw you I couldn’t shake the image of you from my mind, the night we met was one of the greatest nights of my life.”

Tōru’s face bore a furious scarlet colour now, his eyes sparkling and his lip quivering.

“So please, Tōru, will you go out with me?”

Kōshi was terrified, but one look into the brunette’s eyes told him that he needn’t be.

“I was supposed to be the one to confess, dummy. Of course I’ll go out with you.”


	19. Chapter 19

_ meeting you was cutting our fingers _

_ on shards of broken glass _

_ the broken glass my body _

_ and then planting bulbs _

_ in the little corner garden _

_ at the end of our driveway _

_ meeting you was taking those shards _

_ and repairing the figurine _

_ of my happiness _

_ with superglue _

_ so those shards couldn't fall back off _

_ superglue, a much better alternative _

_ to clear tape _

_ and bubble gum that finally lost it's flavor _

_ meeting you was plumping lip gloss, _

_ taking what was once considered okay _

_ and making it beautiful _

_ meeting you was ugly _

_ and dazzling _

_ and everything in between _

_ meeting you was finding the worth _

_ in what we once considered worthless _

_ meeting you was watching those damn bloodied tulips _

_ grow to their fullest potential _

_ regardless of how others saw them _

_ Tōru _


	20. Chapter 20

“You know, you lied about not being good with words, Kō.”

“Hmm? What do you mean, Tōru?”

Tōru just smiled up at the sky, not responding to his boyfriend, before sending him a tumblr link.

“This is… how did you know?”

“Who do you think T.O. is?”

“That… oh. But that means you saw-”

“Yes, it does. That’s half of the reason I talked to you the night of the party. I had already wanted to, of course, but that painting gave me the confidence to do so.”

Kōshi punched Tōru’s arm slightly, blushing furiously, before resting his head on the brunette’s shoulder. They were stargazing, something that became as familiar as the feeling of each other’s hands in their own. Tonight it felt different, however, the silence usually occupied by astronomy lessons and talks of the plausibility of parallel universes and otherworldly lifeforms now being occupied by this conversation.

“I love you, Kōshi.”

Tōru rarely said Kōshi’s full name, so he hoped that it got his point across. He needed Kōshi to know, he needed him to feel it in the same ways he did, in the tea they drank together in the mornings to the tangles limbs they shared at night, Tōru fell more in love each second he spent with Kōshi. It had been two years to the date since Kōshi’s confession.

“I love you too, silly.”

“Pinky promise?”

Tōru waited for Kōshi’s eyes to meet his, for their pinkies to link together, before he used his other hand to place a ring on Kōshi’s finger.

The darkness of the night was unable to disguise the furious blush Kōshi wore, eyes wide yet full of love.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the wordsmith?”

“I’m nervous, Kō.”

“You should know the answer is yes. Why even worry?”

Kōshi’s lips met Tōru’s in a tender kiss, every word Kōshi wanted to say but couldn’t spilling into Tōru’s mouth and every expression Tōru wanted to paint slipping into Kōshi’s.

“Pinky promise?” Tōru breathed after they separated.

“Pinky promise.”


End file.
